


Badly

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Loqi’s terrible to the hosting servants.





	Badly

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The Citadel is wide and towering, reeking of _luxury_ , and every surface that Loqi touches is polished to perfection. Lush gardens and courtyards are littered about the gleaming halls, and not a single potted plant has a single petal out of place. The tapestries are artful, the paintings exquisite. It’s a soft, glittering display of excess that fills Loqi with both hatred and jealousy. He sneers at the servants that pass by him.

One particular servant stays two steps ahead of him, guiding him down one extravagant corridor after the next. Two Imperial soldiers follow in Loqi’s wake, ready to draw blood at the first sign of betrayal, though Loqi could handle himself easily enough with his lone escort. It’s an insult to be shown to his quarters by one measly commoner rather than the prince or king himself, but Loqi understands that the emperor and chancellor had their own business with the royals. Now that the generic, dreadfully boring and insincere banquet’s reached its end, Loqi’s being quietly swept aside.

He’d be even more pissed off about it—enough, perhaps, to even cause a scene—if not for the fact that his guide has a perfectly sculpted backside, and that eye-candy makes it worth the indignation. He watches those taut cheeks flex and dimple with each long stride, trim thighs changing the pattern of barely-there wrinkles in the nearly painted-on pants. For a commoner, the servant’s dressed reasonably well—a crisp, well-tailored suit in a deep purple colour—but Loqi would’ve preferred a little less fabric. The man is tall, lean and fit, and he’d doubtless look better with his broad shoulder blades exposed. 

As they turn another marble corner, Loqi attempts new conversation: he loudly complains, “The Citadel isn’t nearly so large as I’d expected.”

His remark, subtle but scathing, elicits no response. His guide continues on with a level, steady gait that would put Loqi’s best horse to shame. Loqi adds, “As for its staff... I find that dreadfully lackluster.” Again, nothing. He pushes, “Where _I_ come from, servants dress more enticingly when they’re expected to please their betters.”

His meaning couldn’t be clearer. The man’s steps falter for half a second, and his head turns, his green eyes glancing idly over his shoulder. His thin glasses catch the light. But then he resumes his vigil, just as unflappable as he was during the banquet, where Prince Noctis introduced him as _Ignis Scientia_ , a _personal_ advisor, before brushing Loqi off as soundly as Ignis does now. 

It absolutely _infuriates_ him. No one ignores Loqi Tummelt, least of all a Lucian commoner with nothing to their name. But Loqi can’t seem to find any bait that Ignis will rise to. He still has nothing by the time that they reach a set of grand oak doors, where Ignis gestures forward and bows halfway, reciting mechanically, “Your quarters, General.”

Loqi glares pure daggers, but Ignis doesn’t budge. Loqi has to bite out, “Show me them inside.”

Ignis quirks one brow, his handsome face otherwise unreadable, and for a moment, Loqi thinks he might actually _refuse_. But then he smoothly recites, “As you wish,” and opens the doors. Loqi follows him inside, pausing only to signal the soldiers to wait there. Looking pathetically lost, they do.

Loqi allows Ignis to close the doors behind them. Loqi makes a show of eyeing the front room—a plain, beige-and-marble entrance—and waits for the grand tour. 

Ignis doesn’t offer it. So Loqi drops the pretense too, turning to him to point out, “I don’t usually allow commoners in my rooms... but as Lucis has nothing better to offer me, I’ll take it.” Then he advances on Ignis, ready to go in for the kill—if he can’t stir up interest with his words, he’ll flatten Ignis into the wall and _show_ him Loqi’s vigor.

But Loqi doesn’t get the chance. Ignis lurches to life, and in a heartbeat, he’s spun himself around behind Loqi, come up tight against Loqi’s back, and drawn a knife to hold before his throat. Loqi splutters in shock, his own hands darting for weapons he no longer has—the chancellor made him surrender all those at the door. What’s more, Ignis’ grip is unrelenting, and Loqi is left with no doubts over his strength reflexes. 

In a voice like liquid silk, Ignis murmurs, “Personally, I find the Imperial style of flirtation to be a tad... _crass_.” Loqi grits his teeth at the remark. Ignis continues, “However, as I do find you quite attractive... I think I will, against my better judgment, allow your poor attempt at courting.”

A quick, sharp combination of loathing and _lust_ boils up in Loqi. He hates that tiny moment of relief with a searing passion. His body jumps at the invitation, but the rest of him screams that he doesn’t need to be thrown a bone because he’s _pretty_. He has _power_. He needs to regain control. It’s all he can do to hiss out, “In the Empire, a commoner drawing a knife on someone with noble blood would result in that commoner’s death.”

Ignis clicks his tongue. “And yet you stand in Lucis, where even a servant may defend themselves against the gross advances of lords.”

Loqi spits out, “Gross?!” in outraged offense. His only respite is that the knife disappears in a flurry of shimmering wind. Ignis steps away, and Loqi spins around, staring and nearly shaking. 

Ignis bows from the waist, murmuring, “I apologize.” He straightens again to add, “That was a poor choice of words. I do not truly consider you an egregious threat.”

There are no words for Loqi’s fury. Ignis coolly continues, “But I hope I’ve made my point.” Loqi twitches. “If I’m going to show you to the bedroom, I’ll expect a certain level of respect.”

Loqi can barely see through the red haze of his anger. 

Yet he’s never been so _turned on_ in his life.

He hesitates for only a few seconds, wavering between tearing up the walls and taking Ignis on the floor.

Then he storms forward, marching right past Ignis and deeper into the sprawling quarters. He barks, “Come,” only to pause and glance back. Ignis doesn’t budge. Loqi forces himself to begrudgingly include: “if you will.”

Ignis dons a thin but devastatingly enticing smile. He steps ahead of Loqi and all but purrs, “Right this way, Sir.”


End file.
